On My Radar
by Stellanti Nocte
Summary: Harry Beauvais can't wait to get away from his gold-digging mother. Now, she is going after the British Minister for Magic, Voldemort. Forced to go with her, Harry finds himself falling for the handsome politician...AU, HP/TR slash
1. Chapter 1

**Edited 5/4/12: Fixed some of the French translations. If you've already read the chapter, there's no need to read it again!**

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**Title:** On My Radar

**Pairings:** Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Severus Snape/Remus Lupin, Regulus/Lily, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** verbal abuse, dub-con heterosexual relationship and sexual situations (potions used to get consent), eventual slash and male/male sexual content, AU

**Summary:** Harry Beauvais can't wait to get away from his gold-digging whore of a mother. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, his mother has found a new target: the British Minister of Magic, Voldemort. Dragged into her plot to snag the man's heart (and bank accounts), Harry finds himself falling for the handsome politician as well…

**A/N:** This story is set in an alternate universe where there was no war, no Dark and Light sides, no Dark Lords, and no BWL. The timeline is moved up so that Tom Riddle was born only 13 years earlier than Harry.

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**Chapter 1**

The French Ministry's Annual Winter Ball was in full swing. Classical music filled the ballroom as witches and wizards glided across the floor in a sinuous dance. Their decorative robes swished around their ankles with each step and turn, creating a vibrant collage of flowing fabric. The grand ballroom was adorned with silver and white decorations that shimmered in the dim lighting. Small clear globes containing twinkling white lights floated through the air on an invisible current of wind. Those who were not engaging in the dance stood about the edge of the rectangular room and talked in groups. Every now and then, flurries of magical snow would fall from the ceiling and flutter to the ground, disappearing the instant they came into contact with any object.

There were light blue plush couches and tiny round tables set around the room for resting. On one end of the ballroom was a set of stairs opposite the ornate double doors that opened to the front yard of the Minister of France's mansion. These stairs curved inward to meet at a long balcony overlooking the ballroom. Many witches and wizards stood along the steps and balcony, chatting amiably with one another, but one wizard in particular was leaning against the banister alone.

Harry Beauvais swirled the wine in his glass and scanned the hall for the only woman wearing a shiny silver gown with a white fur cape. His eyes narrowed as they rested upon her, noticing the men she had surrounded herself with. Easily, he picked out the influential wizards: Sir Pierre Belmont, the French Ambassador for Britain; Lord Armand Baptiste, one of the richest wizards in France; and Lord Elliot Devereux, head of the Ancient and Noble house of Devereux. Harry sighed and resigned himself to the inevitable; his mother was at it again.

At the age of thirty-six, Elise Beauvais didn't look a day over twenty-five. She was always the belle of the ball with her eye-catching style and graceful air. Her youthful appearance (which Harry knew she spent hours upon hours maintaining) combined with her perfect crescent-shaped smile made Elise the ultimate seductress. The woman knew how to hood her eyes and lower her voice and touch _just so_. But that was not all Ms. Beauvais was capable of. Harry was well aware of her deceitful nature and was often forced into following along with whatever scheme she had planned to snare the next unsuspecting man with.

Only one more year left under his mother's care, before Harry would be seventeen and an adult in the Wizarding world.

He was eagerly anticipating that day.

After yet _another_ sigh (sighing was his favorite pastime) the tall, curly-haired teen straightened from his slouch against the banister and began to weave his way through the groups of people toward his mother. Perhaps he could stop the process before it got started.

"Oh! And here he is; my darling son!" Elise exclaimed as she saw Harry approach her group. Her mouth melted into a fond smile; expression softening with the ease of years' worth of practice. On cue, one of her delicate hands reached up and tugged on a stray curl of Harry's ebony locks.

"Your hair is falling out of its ponytail, Harry. Just like your father's hair…" she adopted a solemn expression and glanced down. It was her first time speaking with these men, so she could always start with _that_ story to capture their hearts.

Inwardly, Harry groaned. He knew that line like the back of his hand; the "you look so much like your father" line Elise used to prompt the sob story about her "deceased husband". In truth, Elise had never married, though she'd been engaged to countless men. After years of stubborn silence on the identity of his father, Harry was beginning to wonder if she honestly didn't know who it was. It wouldn't be too far fetched, considering the type of woman Harry's mother was. The teen couldn't help but feel horrible for thinking such thoughts about his own mother, but it was true; while Elise wasn't a whore by any means, she was certainly a gold digger who had dated more men than she could remember the names of.

"His father?" one of the three men in their group, Elliot Devereux, asked. Elise barely managed to keep the smile off of her face as the man fell for the bait.

"Oh, yes," she murmured, staring off into the distance as if remembering something profound and heart wrenching, "I was married, once, years ago—"

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle, but you can't mean _years_; you are only in your twenties!" Pierre Belmont exclaimed. Her son _did_ look to be in his teens, but he was sure that Elise was no older than twenty-seven. She was much too young and energetic to have married once already.

"Oh, you flatter me, Monsieur Belmont!" Elise gushed. Her cheeks reddened with pleasure and pride—though it was interpreted as a shy flush—over her youthful appearance. Yes, she put quite a bit of money and time into her glowing skin and shiny hair. It definitely paid off, though, for her charms were her most valuable assets. First impressions were everything, after all.

"No, it _was_ years ago. He was a good man—very kind—and he gave me my beautiful Harry. I miss him terribly and often regret being unable to help him when he was in pain. But I could not save him, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn't stand that feeling of being helpless while my love died; it nearly broke me. Fortunately, Harry was there with me, and he helped me to move on through the pain." Elise concluded her brief story, nodding to herself at the skillful lie. It was important to keep it short and vague, in order to make it appear to be a delicate subject and to avoid looking as if she were searching for pity. Mixing in truths with lies made the story all the more genuine and believable.

That was the core of Elise's acting; mixing honesty with deceit. Since she preferred handsome, young men, it wasn't difficult to show lust and attraction. The lying came into play when love was confessed. Elise's only true love was money and social standing, but the men didn't need to know that. It took a bit of practice, of course, to feign romantic love, but Elise had flattered herself as part of the game before she had even graduated from school.

"That's horrible! I would never have guessed that such a sweet and energetic woman like you would have such a sad past."

"It was difficult, but with Harry, I could believe that there was still happiness in the world." Here, Elise turned to Harry with a loving and grateful smile and hugged his arm like an admiring little sister. This had the intended affect of emphasizing her innocence and youth, while simultaneously pulling a chuckle from her listeners. _Rule #1 of a Seductress: Always keep them entertained. _

Harry, desperately trying to change the subject, turned to Sir Pierre Belmont.

"What is Britain like, Sir Pierre?" he asked quietly.

"It's amazing! The British are surprisingly friendly, and extremely hard workers! Why, in our last meeting…" the man then launched into a detailed explanation of the latest meeting between the British and French Ministries. Harry listened to the animated man attentively. While Elise had dragged Harry all over the world_—"to meet a variety of different types of men,"_ she'd once told him_—_they had never visited Britain. Harry was insatiably curious about the island country, and soaked up the information like a dry sponge.

Elise, on the other hand, hardly spared the conversation an ear. She had been to Britain once, before Harry was born. It wasn't anything special, and she was hesitant to return when there was a chance that they might run into Harry's father. They looked too alike for Elise's comfort.

True, Harry had her bright green eyes and slim stature, but his curly black hair and amazing height were all from his father. Not to mention those striking aristocratic facial features that could only be found in the bloodlines of ancient Britain.

"The British Minister is very capable for his young age. Actually, I think that he is the youngest minister to ever be elected in Britain. He's very intelligent; he proposed the plan to give the werewolves the Wolfsbane Potion every month." Pierre boasted. Even though he wasn't under the man's authority, he was still proud to be working with the British Minister. The man was a good "bloke", as the British say.

Harry opened his mouth to comment, but Elise beat him to it.

"Really?" she asked, suddenly intrigued with the conversation. "Exactly how old _is_ he?"

Harry wanted to bang his head on the wall. Could his mother be any more obvious? Yet, as he glanced at the three men gathered around them, he was amazed to find that none of them noticed anything odd about the question. Really, was the male population's intelligence declining? While his mother was cunning and good at lying, she wasn't the best of the best. She had her faults and little slip-ups that would have given her away to any man who was half-blind. Harry had yet to meet a man that could see past his mother's deceits. It was pathetic, and an insult to his gender!

With a huff, Harry excused himself from the conversation as his mother began to pry information on the young minister from Sir Pierre. It seemed that his coming over to chat had not only failed in holding back Elise, but it had sent her plans into action that much faster!

The tall sixteen-year-old slowly traveled across the ballroom, ducking away from the giggling girls seeking his attention and avoiding any drinks or food. The one glass of wine he had permitted himself was too much already, and the thought of what his mother might be planning was enough to kill any appetite he may have had. Choosing a partially hidden and blessedly empty corner, Harry leaned against the wall and watched the dancing couples with only half of his attention.

If his mother really planned to go after the British Minister of Magic, then she had more guts than Harry thought. Elise had only gone for the young rich heirs of old families, and had no experience with truly politically powerful men.

_Could she actually pull it off?_

Harry had no clue.

Blinking his eyes back into focus, Harry realized with more than a little embarrassment that he'd been subconsciously watching one wizard dance the entire time. The wizard looked about the same age as him, and was exceptionally tall and handsome. Well, if Harry was being honest with himself, the guy was drop dead sexy. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't being honest with himself.

Due to Elise's habit of never staying in one city, let alone country, Harry had never been enrolled in a school. Elise had taught him all of his basics, and then all of his magical knowledge, herself. Thus, Harry had zero experience with his own age group, especially when he was often dragged to adult balls and forced to converse with people twice his age. To add to this lack of a childhood, his mother never sheltered him from "adult concepts". Harry had known exactly what was happening when Elise brought home her dates.

Elise was strongly opinionated about relationships. She believed that sex was the best thing since the Nimbus 2000—after money, of course. It was her goal in life to tease Harry about his lack of relationship of any kind; be it a serious long-term love, or a one-night-stand. His virginity was a constant amusement to her, and she was always trying to see who he liked. After all, if Harry snagged a girl from a rich household, Elise might get introduced to a relative; or better yet, Harry might get married and she could leech off of him as the mother-in-law.

Harry hadn't told her that he was gay.

And he didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. If Elise found out, she would never let Harry live it down. She would make fun of him, like she did whenever they saw a gay couple in another country. The woman appeared to find something funny about homosexual relationships, and Harry did not want his own mother to scorn him for his sexual orientation; she already made it clear that his entire existence was an accident nearly everyday.

But there was more to it than just his mother's opinion. Harry was honestly afraid of romantic relationships. He was distrustful of the word "love", since he'd seen his mother deceive a copious amount of men using it. He just couldn't trust that someone could actually love him; it made him feel like the person was lying to him, like his mother.

Then there was his aversion to loose, sex-only relationships. That kind of thing made Harry feel like he was turning into his mother; only in it for the sex and money. So he feared a serious relationship, but refused to have sex with just anyone.

Quite the dilemma.

Harry steadfastly ignored the wink that the sexy wizard sent his way and decided that another drink wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. It was going to be a long night…

Meanwhile, Elise was having the time of her life.

"Actually, I believe that the British Ministry is planning to hold a Halloween Ball this month. Their balls and conventions are always so extravagant." Sir Pierre leaned close and whispered into Elise's ear with a conspiratorial air, "Apparently the minister, Voldemort, has money to spare."

Elise nearly squealed in delight. How perfect! The man was young, powerful, and rich! Perhaps a trip to Britain was in order after all…

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"_M__aman_, you can't be serious!" Harry pleaded desperately. Elise had just informed him, offhandedly, of her plans to visit Great Britain, and attend the Halloween Ball at the British Ministry of Magic. How she'd managed to get them invitations to _that_, Harry would never know.

But that wasn't the problem; Harry had long ago resigned himself to the background while his mother cheated men left and right. No, the problem was that she was only telling him this _now_—the international portkey to Britain left tomorrow morning.

"Of course I'm serious, boy! Did you honestly think that I had time to tell you earlier? I was busy planning my outfit, getting my nails manicured, cutting my hair into the latest British style, researching Minister Voldemort _and so much more_! I didn't have time to explain all of my plans to you, and then listen to you complain about all _**cette putain de morale**_ you always spout." Elise huffed and, having finished her rant, turned around to fold more clothes and reverently place them into her open suitcase while muttering to herself about "annoying kids".

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, cursing when a curl got snagged between his fingers. He should have expected that his mother forgot to inform him of the move; when Elise started preparing for a visit to a new country, _everything_ disappeared in the face of plans, outfits, and all that other junk women call "getting ready".

Not that it was hard for Elise to forget about Harry under normal circumstances.

The green-eyed teen turned and weaved through the maze of Elise's ghastly number of suitcases. Just as he reached the door, he overheard some of his mother's mutterings.

"_Saloperie de gosse. _Why did I have to have a son? I should have known that that mongrel would forget the contraceptive charm if he was drunk…can't even remember the sex…_une perte de temps_…"

Harry tensed, but didn't flinch; he hadn't flinched in years. Elise always reminded him that he was an accident. He was only useful for her image, after all.

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**Translations from French to English: **

cette putain de morale - those fucking morals

Maman - mother

Saloperie de gosse - fucking kid

Une perte de temps - a waste of time

**A/N:** I used Google translate for these, so please tell me if they are wrong! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Oops, I forgot one of these on the first chapter...Anyway, no copyright infringement intended.

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**Chapter 2 **

Harry landed on the floor in a rather ungraceful heap. Merlin, he hated portkeys! The muggles had much more comfortable transportation, so why couldn't wizards use their "superior power" to invent better transportation as well?

Exhaling slowly to regain his calm and chase away the lingering nausea that portkeys caused, Harry stood up as dignified as he could and brushed the dirt from his robes. He took a bit longer than was necessary to smooth down any wrinkles, using the time to better compose himself. Beside him, Elise was already ordering a house elf about where to take their luggage.

She had never experienced any of the trouble that Harry did with magical transportation, and the boy had briefly entertained the idea that he'd gotten it from his father. But that would lead to other thoughts about his unidentified dad, which would then lead to wishful thinking. He could only hope that his father was a better person than his mother; someone that Elise didn't deserve. That would give him the hope that he had inherited something good from the other parent, and was not fated to one day become like his mother.

The house elf popped away to the luxury hotel where they were staying. Though Harry wanted to see all sides of Great Britain, poor and rich, Elise would settle for nothing less than the best.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts when the man at the desk for the International Portkey Station cleared his throat pointedly.

"If you've gathered all of your belongings, _sir_, then please move out of the way for the next portkey travelers." He shot Harry a contemptuous glance when he said "sir", and the boy wondered about Sir Pierre's assertion that the British were "very friendly".

With a thin smile, he stepped out of the room for International Portkey Arrivals and into a crowded atrium bustling with ministry workers. Discomfort immediately washed over Harry and he fidgeted with the neck of his cloak. It's not that he was claustrophobic, per se; he simply hated being near so many people. But that was to be expected when your idea of a perfect day was curling up in the window seat of your library with a heavy, dusty tome.

Harry wasn't a socializer; his mother dominated enough conversations for the both of them.

Speaking of his mother, Harry seemed to have lost her. No matter, he was not a child and he was not totally incompetent; he could find the right Floo connection on his own. Someone rammed into Harry from behind, and he hissed in annoyance.

"Don't stop in the middle of the room, boy!" the person growled.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to move forward. The walk across the British Ministry of Magic's atrium was slow and Harry was jostled more times than he could count. Finally, after a good fifteen minutes, the outgoing Floo was in sight. Harry didn't worry that he might get there before Elise; the woman had surely left whether he was with her or not. She would be dying to scope out their luxury suite.

A tall, looming figure in a black robe with the hood up suddenly crossed his path, and Harry barely had time to blink before slamming into the person.

He really needed to stop getting lost in his thoughts.

Strong, large hands caught his shoulders before he could fall. As he steadied himself, Harry craned his neck up with the intent to apologize. The man was infuriatingly tall, something that intimidated the teen. In France, Harry was typically one of the tallest in a room, but here in Britain, it seemed that he was merely an average height.

Fuck, he'd gotten lost in his thoughts _again_!

His eyes locked with striking silver and he shivered. It felt like the man was reading his soul and Harry felt a twinge of panic.

What would the man find there?

Harry was afraid to know.

Then the intense moment dissolved as the man smiled kindly and let go of the curly haired boy's shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking." His voice was smooth and deep, and Harry instantly recognized it as the voice of a politician. It was the kind of voice that soothed, spoke passionate speeches, and drew the masses to him. It was the kind of voice that brought visions of galleons to his mother's eyes.

Harry hated politicians.

Stiffly, he opened his mouth to say that it was his fault as well, but was interrupted by a mutilated high-pitched version of his name.

"Harry!"

Said boy turned around and stared with blatant astonishment as none other than Elise came hurriedly toward them. Her expression of immense relief put Harry on guard. That expression—the type that implied that she had been worried about him and was relieved to find him again—meant that she was acting. As she enveloped Harry into a tight hug, Elise blubbered convincingly.

"Oh Harry, I was so afraid when I lost sight of you!"

Harry was tempted to ask incredulously, "You didn't leave already?" but remained silent. It wasn't a good idea to show how dysfunctional his family was to a complete stranger.

However, that didn't mean that he had to hug the woman back.

Meanwhile, the politician that Harry had collided with was observing the situation with sharp eyes. The woman, who appeared to be related to the boy, was hugging and kissing the child in a way that was meant to draw attention to her distressed form. He wasn't fooled. Instead, the man focused on the boy that she so obviously wanted him to ignore. He was surprised to find that the child—Harry, according to the crying woman—didn't have the typical annoyed expression that most teens wore when shown affection from family members. He didn't look embarrassed, either. In fact, Harry had no emotion on his face whatsoever.

The boy's tense shoulders and stiff posture gave the impression of discomfort. It was also obvious that he wasn't hugging the woman; rather, he was just letting her cling onto him with a resigned attitude.

So they weren't as close as the woman wanted him to think…

Elise turned to the man that her clumsy son had run into. She smiled, taking note of the rich fabric of his cloak and his confident stance.

"Thank you so much for finding my son!" She said, emphasizing her French accent. In her experience with men from other countries, they found a heavily foreign accent to be cute and sometimes even sexy.

The politician glanced back at the woman, mildly surprised at the her relationship with Harry. He seemed a bit old to be her son, but then again, looks can be deceiving. He refrained from grimacing at her excessive accent, which had not been so obvious when she was speaking with her son.

Did she think that he was too stupid to notice the change? Or better yet, did she think that he would like an accent that was so heavy that he could hardly understand what she was saying?

Nevertheless, he was nothing if not a politician; he knew the importance of keeping everyone enamored with him. So, putting on a vague, kind smile, he shook his head.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, madam. I didn't find you're son, I simply bumped into him." He glanced at Harry, who was looking at the Floo behind them longingly. "He seemed to be fine on his own, though. I imagine that he hardly noticed that you weren't with him." The veiled insult was pushing it, but when Harry covered his mouth to muffle his snort of laughter, the man decided that it was worth it.

Harry glanced at Elise, whose face was splotched with a mortified blush. Whoever this man was, politician or not, he had just gained Harry's complete respect. Finally, here was a man who could see through Elise's manipulations. Ironic that it would be the type of man that Elise liked best.

Not bothering to hide his smirk, Harry turned back to the silver-eyed politician.

"Sorry that I ran into you, sir. We won't keep you any longer." He grabbed Elise's arm and dragged her from the man.

As they reached the Floo, Harry dropped his mother's arm like he'd been scalded. He motioned to the scowling witch with a sarcastic remark of "ladies first". There was no way that he was going first and trusting that the woman would follow; chances were, she wouldn't.

Harry watched Elise disappear into the Floo and he briefly toyed with the idea of staying behind. It was a damn shame that he wasn't quite an adult yet; he would love to explore Great Britain's Wizarding World on his own. Many times, Harry felt that his age was teasing him with almost-but-not-yet adulthood.

Withholding a sigh, Harry stepped into the Floo with his head held high and an unreadable expression on his face. But the mask crumbled slightly as his eyes widened, catching sight of the silver-eyed politician with his hood down and staring straight at him.

The Floo spun a flustered Harry away, leaving Voldemort to contemplate the boy.

"Minister! Are you going out? Do you require assistance on your errands?"

Voldemort closed his eyes and took a deep breath, composing his expression and successfully hiding his irritation. Time to please the hypocrites that sought his praise…

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**A/N:** Alrighty! Chapter three is almost done, so it should be up in a few days or so, depending on if I'm feeling nice or not…*grins evilly*

And now that I've pissed you off, I will humbly ask for a review ;)

I'm kidding, it really will be posted in a day or two!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended.

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**Chapter 3**

"I can't believe you did that! You made me look like a child that needed her older brother to drag her away from the toy store's window!" Elise hissed in rapid French. She huffed when Harry didn't respond. Well. _She_ thought that it was a rather good analogy, and was proud to have come up with it in the few moments before Harry was spit out of the Floo.

That stupid boy! How dare he pull her away from a prospective target like that!

Oh well, it didn't really matter anyway. She had a bigger candidate to focus on this time: the minister.

Calmed by that thought, Elise sauntered up to the front desk of the hotel and proceeded to check in. Nothing brought a smile to Elise's face better than flirting pointlessly with any male she came across and watching them rush to please her.

Harry watched his mother toy with the teenager working at the front desk. He looked away, disgusted that the boy was probably no older than him. The feeling didn't last long, however, as it was pushed aside for other thoughts to crowd his head.

Why couldn't he get the image of that politician—standing there in the crowded ministry atrium, towering over every witch and wizard that passed him, face void of emotion, but eyes glowing with interest—out of his mind?

Merlin, could he get any more detailed on the subject? The disgust was back, only this time it was directed at his excessively detailed description of the man. He sounded like a lovesick teenager! Granted, he _was_ a teenager, but he wasn't lovesick. Harry had never fallen in love before and his verdant eyes darkened in anger at the mere thought of such a thing.

He would _never_ fall in love. It was too risky.

While he wanted to take the easy way out and believe that love simply didn't exist, Harry knew that it did—on rare occasions. He had seen plenty of examples of love throughout his life; the parents hugging their children, the old couple in their sixties holding hands, the school crush turning a young girl into a beautiful woman. It was all there, if one knew where to look.

Love just wasn't present in Harry's life, and thus he concluded that it never would be. In truth, Harry was afraid that he would be unable to trust another person enough to freely love them. And if that were the case, then Harry didn't want to hurt the person with his own insecurities.

But that politician…

Well, Harry was a sixteen-years-old boy, and the guy was gorgeous. He was possibly the most beautiful person that Harry had ever seen, male or female.

_That wasn't love, though; that was lust._

The pale teen exhaled a great breath of relief. He hadn't even realized that he'd been holding his breath while his mind sorted out his perpetually tangled thoughts. Now that he'd come to the conclusion that his fascination with the handsome politician was simply his cock talking, he could relax and enjoy Great Britain.

At least, as much as one could enjoy a vacation with a person like Elise for company.

"Harry!" Speak of the devil.

Elise smiled prettily as the bellboy led her to the elevators. Ah, such an innocent youth…

"Ms. Beauvais, aren't you here with someone? The suite that you requested has two rooms, but if that's wrong, then I should change it immediately. I wouldn't want you to pay for an extra bedroom that you don't need." The hope that she was single and here alone was so obvious in the boy's tone and expression that Elise almost pitied him. Almost.

"Oh, my!" She gasped and looked around behind her, as if looking for someone. "But, I thought that he was right behind me…oh, there he is, that silly boy!" Elise motioned toward her wayward son, inwardly scowling at his absentmindedness. The brat was practically A.D.H.D.! He had definitely gotten that detriment from his disastrous father.

"He must have gotten sidetracked by the decorations of the lobby. Harry's always been interested in decorating and other such _frivolous_ things." Elise quelled the urge to laugh cruelly. The bellboy clearly understood her insinuation that Harry was gay, judging by the slight blush that spotted his cheeks and the wrinkling of his nose.

"Harry!" She called. It was difficult to remain still when she wanted to squirm in anticipation. There was no telling how the bellboy would act around Harry now, and it was sure to make the kid uncomfortable. It brought her such joy to see that pain-in-the-ass son of hers try and hide his emotions around her, that she couldn't help but do everything in her power to make it that much more difficult for him.

Oh, Elise knew that Harry was gay. He tried to hide it, but every now and then she would catch him staring at a particularly handsome man. Though he was good at quelling his urges, when his mask _did_ slip, Harry was like an open book. His sexual orientation was painfully obvious to her, and the only reason that she refrained from calling him out on it was because she preferred to torment him silently.

Harry walked toward Elise with a growing sense of trepidation. He could see a sadistic glint in his mother's eyes and that didn't bode well for him. He glanced toward the hotel boy waiting with her and blinked in surprise at the expression on his face. The boy looked like he'd smelled something bad.

His nose was wrinkled and his lips were pursed together in disgust. There was a slight tinge of green to the coloring of his face. He kept sending odd glances Harry's way. Harry assessed Elise's smirk and deduced that she had told the boy some weird lie about him. Elise liked to give people a bad impression of him.

They stepped into the lifts and Harry pretended not to notice how the hotel boy stayed as far away from him as was possible in the small space. It hurt, yes, but that was human nature. Harry had long ago learned to ignore the opinions of other people. Unfortunately, he had yet to rid himself of the importance of his mother's opinion. While he could successfully hide how much her uncaring attitude toward him hurt, he had yet to shake the instinctual need to please her. As her son, Harry naturally sought her approval and love.

No matter that he would never get it.

A soft ding announced their arrival to the third floor and Harry gratefully stepped from the lift and away from the tense atmosphere that had settled over them during the short ride. Then he realized that he did not know their room number and reluctantly turned to wait for Elise and the hotel boy. Harry was fiercely independent and he hated to rely on anyone, even for something as small as leading him to his hotel room. He cursed his stupidity from before. Normally, he would have been right next to Elise learning everything he could in case the woman decided to abandon him halfway through the vacation. Or rather, _when_ the woman decided to abandon him. There was no doubt that she would.

Finally, the three stopped in front of room 394 and the hotel boy excused himself. He seemed as if he couldn't get away fast enough. Harry snorted at the kid's odd behavior before stepping into their suite after Elise.

It was quite grand for a hotel room. Harry observed the ornate chandelier hanging in the foyer, made of tiny crystalline mermaids. They swam in a circle around flickering candles and seemed to cry more crystals that fell past the waves and disappeared an inch from the bottom of the chandelier. Harry snorted at the overly magnificent light fixture and moved into the common area. Thick velvet curtains covered wide, floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive furniture filled the den and kitchen. It was like a freaking house! They weren't even going to be in the room for more than a few hours each day, save for sleeping! Then his eyes settled on the 60-inch LED flat screen TV. Harry raised an eyebrow and turned to Elise.

"I thought the British were famous for hating muggles?"

"They are." Elise didn't look away from the window she had opened. It must be a spectacular view to hold her attention, for only the most beautiful things could.

"Then why do they decorate their hotel rooms with muggle electronics?" Harry asked with a roll of his eyes. Of course speaking more than two words to him would be _absolutely atrocious_ to Elise. She turned to look at him as if he were stupid. Harry hated how it successfully made him feel small and ignorant.

"Because this is an upscale hotel that often caters to foreign customers who expect muggle things to be in their room without having to ask for them." She explained slowly before closing the curtains with a snooty sniff. Apparently the view wasn't that great, after all. Without another word she tossed his room key onto the table and then went to her room, locking the door behind her. Harry sighed and retrieved the key before disappearing into his own room.

The bedroom was large, with plain walls and useless baubles scattered about that were meant to make the room look rich and lived in. In Harry's opinion, it only made the room look colder. He ignored his trunks sitting at the end of the bed in favor of collapsing onto the mattress. The bed was soft and fluffy, and gave Harry the feeling of being engulfed in warmth. Well, that was one upside to a luxury hotel.

_Just like home._

Harry was used to living in hotels for extended periods of time because he and Elise were always traveling to new places. That was one thing about his childhood that Harry hadn't regretted; he had had the privilege of seeing the world and all that it had to offer. Now, he was looking forward to exploring Britain.

The ebony haired boy smiled as anticipation filled him. He began to mentally plan his itinerary for tomorrow. First, he wanted to visit the famous Diagon Alley. While there, he could slip down the infamous Knockturn Alley when Elise was busy and visit some of the shady shops that sold more rare products. Harry knew that Knockturn was dangerous, but he was a decent fighter and confident that he would be able to protect himself. Besides, he was dying to get his hands on some rare books.

After that, he wanted to see the muggle side of Britain too. That would have to be done later on in the trip, though, so that Elise would be thoroughly distracted with the upcoming ball. He'd heard that the London Tower was a must-see…

Harry was so engrossed in his excited planning that he didn't notice how tired he was. With a soft sigh, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

* * *

The sun shone brightly over Diagon Alley as the day approached noon. Harry shaded his eyes and thanked Merlin that there was a special weather-protection spell over the area to keep out the heat. He ducked and weaved through the milling crowd and only relaxed when he finally found a small side alley between two shops to hide in.

He had successfully managed to sneak away from Elise, who was currently occupied with her outfit for the Halloween Ball at a shop called _Twilfit and Tattings_. Harry had felt suffocated in the shop full of snooty designers and assistants fluttering around his mother. He couldn't stand their pompous attitudes, especially the blonde that had been in line after Elise.

"_Are you attending the Halloween Ball? My father is the Minister's Undersecretary, you see, so I'll be attending as well. What color robes will you wear? I see you like black…not very fitting for your skin color. I'll be wearing light blue. It's the Malfoy family's crest color, you know…"_ and he had rattled on and on about how rich the Malfoy family was; how his father was the Undersecretary; how that paved the way for him to get into the ministry; and Harry just wanted to strangle him. He really hated such arrogant snobs. He hadn't even given Harry his name (not that the green-eyed boy wanted to know it); he had just expected him to immediately know who he was.

Ridiculous!

With a resigned shake of his head, Harry stepped back into the crowd and headed toward the dark alley that branched off of Diagon. He separated from the crowd and barely refrained from shivering as he entered the gloomy Knockturn Alley. It was definitely creepy and dark, but the promise of rare books drew Harry in like a moth to a flame.

Noticing that most of the wizards and witches traversing the alley had their hoods up, Harry pulled his up as well. At least his nondescript black robes helped him to blend in. The teenager walked at a leisurely pace, skimming over the shop signs in search of a bookstore. Finally he found one, nestled in a sharp bend in the alleyway. The sign above it read _Knockturn Alley Books_ in elegant script.

Well. Wasn't that straightforward?

Harry decided that he liked the place already. A soft dinging sound accompanied his entrance and he was treated to the sight of a large three-story bookstore with a homey, if slightly dark, atmosphere. There must have been an extension charm of some sort on the building, for Harry swore that it wasn't so big on the outside.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

The green-eyed boy drifted toward the closest bookshelf as if in a trance. He loved reading about anything magical, no matter if it was Dark or Light, and this store was filled to the brim with strange and rare books that Harry couldn't even find in foreign countries. Reverently, he trailed his fingers over the spines of the books, entranced with their humble beauty. Merlin, he could spend days in here…

Voldemort glanced up when the door chimed to announce a new visitor, as was his habit. He was a rather paranoid man and always positioned himself with a clear view of the door and his back to a wall whenever he entered a room. Not once did he ever lose focus of his surroundings, even when reading a particularly fascinating book. _Knockturn Alley Books_ was his favorite refuge from the annoying masses and they always seemed to have a new book in stock every time he visited. Today was no exception; he was currently engrossed in _The Life and Times of Albus Dumbledore_. It was an intriguing read; he'd had no idea that Dumbledore had been in a relationship with Gellert Grindelwald…

But back to the matter at hand.

The stranger that had just entered the bookstore lowered his hood and Voldemort blinked in surprise. It was the boy with the annoying mother that he'd run into the other day at the Ministry. Well now, _this_ was an interesting development…just what was the kid doing in Knockturn Alley in a bookstore with a predominantly Dark reading selection? He watched as Harry looked about the store in awe, before gravitating to the closest shelf and skimming over the titles. Almost immediately, the boy pulled out a large book and immersed himself in it, leaning casually against the bookshelf.

Voldemort kept half of his attention on the boy and half on the book in his hands for the next hour. It was probably the teenager's first visit to Knockturn Alley and he seemed a bit naïve in the workings of the Dark section of Britain. He didn't seem very aware of his surroundings while reading and anyone could kidnap him without any other person in the area caring.

The Minister briefly wondered why _he_ cared, before deciding that if something came up while the boy was in his sight then he would help, but after the boy left, he was on his own. It was only logical to help the foreign boy while he was in his country. Foreign relations were extremely important to a country's economy, after all.

"What brings a kid like you into Knockturn Alley?" a snide voice asked from Harry's left. Barely stifling a sigh of annoyance, the teenager looked up from the fascinating text and glanced coldly at the hunched over man next to him.

"I don't see how that is any of your business," he spoke quietly, but there was an underlying threat in his voice. The man sneered at him.

"Listen, brat, this is my shop and I won't have you squealing to your parents about the Dark books you found in here." Harry mentally rolled his eyes. How old did this man think he was?

"Oh, well, if it's your shop then I can easily leave on account of your bad service and you won't have my money. Pity; I was planning on buying this one, too…" Harry trailed off, running his fingers over the aged spine of the book in his hands meaningfully. He knew that this one was especially rare and thus, especially expensive. The shopkeeper's eyes widened and acquired a greedy gleam.

"You want that book, you say? Huh, I s'pose I could sell it to you. It's pricey, though, boy. You sure you have enough?" He regarded Harry suspiciously, examining his plain black robes and lack of rings or other ornaments. This time, Harry sneered at _him_.

"Of course I can pay for it. Do you want to sell it to me or not? I am losing my patience with your questionable service," he snapped. The hunched man seemed to decide that the money he would receive from this transaction outweighed the chance of Harry leading Aurors to the shop. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the galleons that he would soon be holding and led Harry to the front counter.

"That'll be fifty galleons, boy." Harry dropped the coins onto the counter without hesitation and snatched up the book. He stalked out of the store, his aura clearly saying "keep away".

Damn that annoyingly suspicious shopkeeper. He'd wanted to find a few more books before leaving, but there was no way he would stick around with the owner watching his every move.

Harry hated being watched. His mother was the one who liked to be seen, not him.

Voldemort allowed a small smirk to quirk his lips. Harry had handled the owner well with a sophisticated and cold use of the man's greed. It was a tactic worthy of a Slytherin. The boy let nothing slip past his cold mask, not even his annoyance.

It seemed that he had underestimated the boy.

With a snap of his wrist, the book on his lap closed shut and flew back to its original place on a shelf. The minister stood and calmly left the store, ignoring the shopkeeper's indignant hiss. He would buy from the man another day. Right now, his lunch break was over and it was time to return to the fools that ran his ministry.

Fortunately, he had something interesting to think about now.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, my dear! I wasn't looking at where I was going!" Harry sighed and stood up, dusting off his robes and checking that the book he'd bought was still shrunk and safely tucked away in an inner pocket of his robes. He'd stepped out of Knockturn Alley and run straight into a crowd of redheads. Or more specifically, into a flustered middle-aged redheaded woman that appeared to be the mother of all the other gingers.

Really, what was it with him and running into people in Britain?

"No, I wasn't looking either. Please forgive me, madam." The woman blushed and waved off his apology.

"No, no, deary, no need to apologize! Oh, but you aren't hurt, are you?" She asked, suddenly bustling around him and searching for any cuts or bruises. Harry stood still, unsure of what to do in this situation. No one had ever shown such motherly intent toward him before. One of the boys complained with an annoyed "Mum!" while two others in the back, who appeared to be identical twins, where whispering to each other and glancing his way.

Harry ignored them, focusing on the woman that was giving him some of the motherly love he had once craved, even though he was a complete stranger to her. Harry was amazed that such a person existed.

"No, I'm fine, madam. Thank you for your concern, though," he spoke sincerely. She looked at him for a moment, as if testing whether he was lying or not, before nodding and stepping out of his way.

"Well then, we should be on our way. Be careful walking through the rest of Diagon Alley, deary, it's gotten very crowded today." Harry nodded and walked away, feeling lighter than he ever had before.

"_Be careful." _

If only she knew just how much those words meant to him. Harry smiled, deciding that he would repay the woman's kindness if he ever saw her again.

* * *

**A/N:** I forgot to mention it earlier, but Dumbledore died randomly in his sleep a few years ago in this timeline. Voldemort had disliked him, yes, but had no intentions of murdering him, nor anyone else (except in jest or when entertaining the thought in his mind—to keep him sane, of course). Also, Voldemort never made any horcruxes.

If there is anything else that I forgot or that you find confusing, please feel free to ask me! I'll try my best to explain without giving away too much information (mostly about Harry's parentage).

Oh! I'm thinking of putting a Severus/Remus side pairing as well. What do all of you think about that?


	4. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

I am rewriting this story from this point on. It diverged from the original outline and I am unhappy with it. Therefore, I am going to rewrite it according to the original plot, but the first three chapters will not change. I'm very sorry to those of you who liked the story as it was, but I wanted more detail and depth to it. I will not post the story until I am completely finished writing it.

Starry Night~


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